


Birds of a feather

by JulyBecameDecember



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (i'll add tags as i go), 5+1, Bird idioms, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Dean Winchester's Room, Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Fluff, Fluff in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Gen, Gen but can be read as romantic, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Teasing, Wing Grooming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:55:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26716378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulyBecameDecember/pseuds/JulyBecameDecember
Summary: The five times someone grooms Castiel's wings, and the one time he groomed someone else's.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Gabriel (Supernatural), Castiel & Jack Kline, Castiel & Meg Masters, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Meg Masters, Castiel/Sam Winchester, If ya want - Relationship, If you want, i wrote all of this gen but you can read it as romantic if you want, if that's your thing
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	Birds of a feather

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey hey how are y'all anyway this fic was born from a discord chat i had with a friend because i was rambling on about wings... and low and behold here i am ! anyway, enjoy the fic uwu

“Dean-” Cas manages to get out in between a rare laugh. 

Dean can’t bring himself to be angry, despite the face- and mouth- full of feathers he currently has. Maybe doing this in his room was a bad idea, the confined space apparently not big enough for the  _ SIX  _ wings Cas had. 

“Dean, I can put them away and we can move.”

It’s a logical point. But Dean’s honestly more stubborn than that, and refuses to admit defeat. Another idea is to only focus on two at a time, but then again, that’s still admitting defeat. Instead, Dean shifts himself around, pushing Cas up towards the headboard. Carefully, he tucks four of the wings closer to Cas, stretching two out along the bed, letting them brush against the floor. 

Shaking his head, he finally answers, “No, no. Just tell me what I need for this, and we can go from there.” 

“Well, this is my first time grooming my wings in this realm. Dean, I’m not sure what I’ll need. I suppose…” Cas breaks off to sigh, “I suppose whatever you would use for a… bird… would work fine.” 

A grin spreads across Dean’s face, that mischievous “oh i’m about to give you hell” grin, “Aw, is that so birdie? Do you need a bird bath too? Aw, don’t ruffle your feathers so much, you’ll look like a grumpy crow.” 

“Dean,” Cas growls out. But Dean can tell he’s not really upset by the smile that Cas is holding back. Cas isn’t a big smiler, but Dean can usually pull something from the angel. 

“Alright, alright, I get it. Just ignore, like water off a duck’s back.” 

“ _ Dean.”  _

“C’mon Cas. Don’t be an albatross around my neck. I know you can throw me as far as the crow flies, but just fight through it and you’ll be as happy as a lark. Free as a bird. 

Cas sighs, drawing his wings closer to him as he turns to glare at Dean, “You’re incorrigible. This was a bad idea, I’ll ask Sam instead.” 

“Cas! don’t fly the coop yet! let me get my ducks in a row. Okay, that was the last one I promise,” to further his point, Dean holds up his hands in a soothing manner, but can’t wipe the smug smile of satisfaction off his face. 

There’s a small sense of victory as Cas huffs, sitting back down on the bed. Though, in fairness, the wing that wacks Dean on the side before settling against the floor, is not uncalled for. Dean just rolls his eyes before moving to the bathroom down the hall. There, he fills a bucket up with water, and grabs a rag. Holy oil is the only oil they have in the house, other than cooking oil, but Dean is not letting that anywhere near Cas’ wings. 

Back in his room, he places the bucket behind Cas, grabs another to place next to the first one, and finally, grabs the holy oil. Once situated, Dean pulls the chair over to the end of the bed and sits down. He doesn’t even have to pull one of Cas’ wings into his lap before one drifts over itself. 

The feathers brush softly against Dean’s bare leg. Dean doesn’t regret wearing the shorts, the ones he usually reserves for cleaning Baby, for this. Cas’ feathers are  _ soft.  _ There’s really no other way to put it. They’re softer than the slippers Sam bought him last Christmas, softer than the sheets they bought for the beds after they moved into the bunker. The touch is a barely-there brush against his thigh, but he can still feel them. 

When he looks up, he sees Cas curiously looking at him, and Dean realizes he’s just been sitting there staring at Cas’s black wings for the past… however long it had been. Startled out of his stupor, Dean tugs the wing closer and sinks his hand in. Cas had said to start by pulling out the broken or crooked feathers, and to smooth out the fixable ones. It seems simple enough, but as Dean looks at the wings he’s not sure where to start. 

Taking in a breath, he picks a spot and starts straightening out the feathers. Some come away easily, others require a simple tug that doesn’t seem to hurt Cas. Infact, Cas relaxes, his shoulders sagging and his eyes falling closed. The muscles in his wings seem to relax, growing heavier the less effort he puts into holding them up. 

Dean pauses, taking in the sight of his best friend so casual. He’s sans shirt, tie, blazer, and coat, the usual tightness in his body language nowhere to be seen and the creases in his face smoothed out. A small, fond smile crops up on Dean’s face as he turns back to his work. The empty bucket he set aside is slowly filling up with feathers. Might be best to save them for a spell if need be, after all it would be better to save them rather than risk them getting out. 

By the time he finishes the wing, Cas is softly dozing- or the angel equivalent of it, Dean can hear Cas’ “angels don’t sleep, Dean”- at his place in the bed. He runs his hands softly through the feathers, hoping it's soothing for the angel, before moving to the water. 

Dean lets the rag drain out into the bucket before squeezing what excess water out he can. He turns back to Cas’ wings. Carefully, he begins to clean out the dirt and gross buildup that he can see, soaking the feathers in the lukewarm water. Soon enough, they’re damp enough that he can move onto the next one. 

It takes a while, but Dean manages to get through all six wings in under two hours. To be fair, if he hadn’t spent a lot of time simply staring at the way the light reflected off the feathers, creating a rainbow effect, he would have gotten it done faster. Though, by the time he’s done, there’s now two wings that have dried out. So he pops open the holy oil and spreads it around on his fingers. 

The book he had looked into a while ago (no NOT in preparation for this fuck you) had said that the oil needs to be spread evenly, to keep the feathers from turning brittle. Gently, he coats each feather individually with the oil. That alone, with all six wings, takes two more hours. At this point, his legs have gone numb from the stationary position, and his arms are covered in oil, water, and debris. 

As quietly as he can, as to not disturb the resting angel on the bed, Dean pulls away and starts cleaning up. There’s a pleasant sort of feeling as he stands, almost tumbling over as feeling returns to his legs, one that buzzes pleasantly under his skin. He can’t remember a time he felt this at ease, especially around Cas. 

Cleaning up doesn’t take too much time, and when he’s done he makes his way back over to the bed. Dean nudges Cas softly, trying to rouse him. 

“Cas, buddy, I finished.” 

Blue eyes blink up at him, pupils dilating to fit the light. They don’t seem completely focused at first, but a moment later they clear up, locking onto Dean’s.

“Thank you, I really cannot thank you enough for this, Dean.” 

Dean shifts on his feet, cutting his gaze to the side. “No it’s nothing,” he waved his hand flippantly. “Just happy to help.”

“Well, still. Thank you,” Cas huffs, smiling up at Cas. 

He looks… happy, at ease, for the first time that Dean can remember. It’s a nice change of pace from the usual pained look the angel wears. There’s pride in his chest, knowing that it was him, Dean, that managed to calm him down to this level. 

“Anytime, pal, anytime.” 

\----------

Castiel had to admit, the hands in his wings felt... nice. It had been a while since he had trustworthy, safe hands taking care of him, and it had been a while since he had been groomed. By the time Dean had finished, he had fallen into a state of- well the best human equivalent would be drowsiness. Even though Castiel didn't sleep. But the comfort was welcoming, nice, and Castiel wasn't sure why he waited so long to do this. 

Now, Dean rests on the other side of the bed, leaving Castiel to watch over him. The hunter has always complained about it being "creepy" but Castiel feels better knowing his charge was safe. He will check on Sam later, Sam didn't seem to mind as much. 

Smiling fondly at the older hunter, Castiel places his hand on Dean's shoulder, where his handprint used to be, briefly.The comforting rise and fall of Dean's breathing is a steady reminder of the life force still running through Dean. His soul was as bright as ever, calm in the throws of sleep. Castiel let himself smile down at the hunter one more time, before he stood. Tucking his wings away, he glanced back at Dean before exiting the room. Next time... he wouldn't be so hesitant to ask. Not when he knew how nice it felt, and how willingly Dean had done it. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! I plan on making a tumblr soon. :)


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